A Wolf's Tale
by Bloodpage-Alchemist
Summary: Monsters are created, not born. A look into the path that turned a man into one of the most savage monsters known to the world. Man? Monster? Who can ever know for sure? But his name? Well that's simple: Fenrir Greyback.


The blood flowed as if he were a fountain. A fountain in a forest. Something about that was funny for some reason. Why was he bleeding again?

Oh, right.

_Fighting werewolves. Bad idea._ He groaned aloud in pain.

"Oh Merlin no! No! Fenrir, hold on, damn it, hold on!"

"Wolf," gasped twenty-year-old Fenrir Greyback, grasping his best friend's arm. "Werewolf…"

They had been on their own since they had finished Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. They hadn't been top of the class or anything special; they hadn't been in the bottom either. Just two friends who didn't care much for books or Quidditch or any of the other rubbish there.

After they had finally finished school, the two lived a life of constant movement. It was different than the norm, but they enjoyed it. Living a life of moving constantly was easy with magic and it was usually peaceful.

The key word there was usually. Tonight, however, his friend had heard strange sounds outside their tent and had gone to investigate. Fenrir had heard him shout a warning and he had run outside to lend a hand.

And then Fenrir had seen it.

At first, he had thought it was a wolf. But most wolves wouldn't attack a camp, especially not one with the basic wards that they always set up.

But this one… it had a shorter snout, more human-like eyes, a tufted tail…

And it was mindlessly hunting humans.

_Werewolf._

It had been targeting his friend and Fenrir had hit it with some powerful spells. The creature had turned without hesitation and attacked Fenrir instead. He had killed the thing but it was a pyrrhic victory at best. Because the thing had damn near chewed up his torso and upper half of his legs.

"I know it was a damn werewolf, stop moving, I need to patch you up! Oh Merlin… silver, silver, where the hell… we don't have any silver…"

"Good," groaned Fenrir. "Let me die."

"Shut up! You're not going to die!"

He couldn't live like this. Not as a werewolf. He groaned and kicked at his friend's hands.

"_Fenrir!"_ His friend hissed irritated. "Damn it, stop moving! We have to have silver somewhere around here… and dittany… Silver and dittany… _Stop moving!"_

Fenrir was trying to crawl away and it wasn't helping. The pain. Oh _Merlin,_ the _pain._ But worse than the pain was the _knowledge. _"Just let me die." It was groaned and he didn't care how he looked, he was sobbing. "Please please just kill me, don't do this to me-"

"Shut up," snarled his friend, brilliant blue eyes visible even as Fenrir was fading into darkness. "Shut up shut up!"

"Too much blood. No silver. Just _go_. Let me die in peace!"

"Didn't I just say to shut up?!" Demanded his friend furiously as he hefted Fenrir up and shook him slightly, but he could see those brilliant blue eyes brimming with unshed tears too. "How thick is your skull that you can't even understand that?! I am not letting you die, I don't care what you are damn it you're my friend so shut up!"

Fenrir giggled maniacally as they stumbled around, his friend obviously trying to get outside of their wards to Apparate. "We bathed in blood all across the seeeeeeeeeeea…."

"Shut. Up."

"I feel greeeeeeeeeeeat!"

"You're suffering from blood loss idiot! Stop it! _Terego! Episkey! Terego! Ferula!" _Bandages appeared to wrap his torso and the upper half of his legs but they were quickly coated in blood and his friend muttered some _very _inappropriate words that would have made a parent cast a cleaning charm on his mouth.

"Whooooooosh. Look at it go, allllll the bloooooood floooooooooow…."

It looked as if they had both bathed liberally in his blood and his friend kept him close as he Apparated. Fenrir tried to push away during the side-along Apparation.

All he managed to do was splinch half his left hand.

"Noooooooooooooooooo," he moaned in pain. "Please just let me go. Please…."

"_I am not letting you die!" _

They were in a small community, having Apparated into a village square with only a church, a post office, a pub, and a few retail shops. The residential streets that they passed-well, more like Fenrir being dragged down- were lined with quaint cottages. They walked away from the village proper, towards a cottage far on the outskirts, far from town and Fenrir moaned, "Please just let me-"

"If you say to let you die _one more time-"_

"You'll kill me?"

"NO!" He reached the door of the house and slammed for dear life, slammed and pounded. "_Albus! Albus open the damn door!"_

Fenrir tried to push away but his friend had grabbed him. "It'll be okay," he said frantically, casting more spells to try and staunch the blood flow and failing. "Albus is a brilliant idiot, he'll fix you up, you'll be okay… _ALBUS OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!"_

The door opened and a man in a sleeping gown with long auburn hair and an unshaven face stared at them in complete undiluted shock, a lantern in his hand illuminating his brilliant blue eyes… eyes that were identical to Fenrir's best friend's. "A-Aberforth? W-What-"

"I-" Aberforth Dumbledore, Fenrir's best friend, looked completely distraught and scared, holding his injured best friend and looking at the brother he had hated for so long. "I need help," he whispered, unable to hold in his tears. "We don't have s-silver or dittany and a w-werewolf-"

"Kill me," Fenrir whispered, looking at Albus Dumbledore, breathing the best he could. "Please. Just… Killing Curse-"

"No!" Aberforth screamed it. "Shut up! You're not going to die!"

Albus Dumbledore looked between the two of them and at all the blood before seeming to finally wake up. He yanked the two of them inside and shut the door, his eyes widening when he saw the state Fenrir was in. The lantern hovered in midair and he lightly moved Fenrir towards the sofa.

"Please," Fenrir begged in a whisper, looking at the man, lightly clenching Albus Dumbledore's arm with all the strength he could muster up. Couldn't the man understand? Better to die than be a werewolf. "Dumbledore, _please..."_

Aberforth's older brother shook his head and summoned a potions kit of some sort, ignoring the soft whispered pleas to stop until Fenrir had no more strength in him and finally found a semblance of peace in oblivion.


End file.
